It All Started With Those Damn Red Boots (Revised)
by prixcilla
Summary: Post 2X01. The guardians are the untold piece of the Petrova doppelganger history – and Alaric Saltzman's estranged daughter is about to find out just how big of a role they play. Who says history isn't everyone's favorite subject? Somewhat AU. Damon X OC. Stelena. Future pairings to come. Rating will change in later chapters!
1. Chapter 1: The One That Got Away

_Set post 2X01._

 _Summary: Post 2X01. The guardians are the untold piece of the Petrova doppelganger history – and Alaric Saltzman's estranged daughter is about to find out just how big of a role they play. Who says history isn't everyone's favorite subject? Somewhat AU. Damon X OC. Stelena. Somewhat AU. Damon X OC. Stelena. Rated M for future chapters. Other pairings in later chapters._

 **It All Started With Those Damn Red Boots**

 **Chapter One: The One That Got Away (Damon's POV)**

 _The Hat Rack_

 _ **S**_ ee that? _That's_ what rock bottom looks like my friends, and it's **almost** as gut wrenchingly ugly as it sounds. Almost. At least rock bottom sounds bland. A desolate wasteland of broken dreams and unmet expectations. A depressing view, but uneventful. But this? Oh this was worse.

The Hat Rack was a backwoods bar off the highway in the middle of nowhere. The only standing building in miles, and the only one with booze in over fifty. Don't believe me? Mapquest Hicktown, USA. Okay so that's not what it's called. I didn't really give a damn. All I knew was that it wasn't Mystic Falls, and that had to count for something. Didn't hurt that pickings were slim. Like I said, fifty miles. When I saw the place I almost took my chances, the sheer amount of _neon_ glinting off the ramshackle exterior was enough of eyesore to make me gag. But in the need my intense need for bourbon won out. Call this my punishment for being weak.

And punished I was. If I thought the outside was bad, it was nothing compared to the inside. It was a nauseating combination of bar and barn, complete with a bar made out of barn wood and a semi-fenced dance floor dominating the center of the room. Picnic tables lined the walls, covered in cheap plastic plaid tablecloths. A makeshift stage (composed of crates and palettes) sat next to the dancefloor. Some painfully cliché band complete with (count them) _three_ banjo players. Two of which wore overalls. Overalls. Who the fuck wore overalls?

Don't answer that question. My nerves can't handle it.

I was tempted yet again to take my chances on the road, but the smell of liquor quickly won the war. I resigned myself to my fate, stalking across the outskirts of the dance floor towards the bar. I tried not to pay too much attention to the redneck gyrating going on out there…in most cases it wasn't a pretty sight. And where it might have been was hardly a better option. The only thing I wanted more than a bottle of bourbon was a nice throat to rip in to. And call me picky, but I hate to eat junk food.

I slumped down on one of the vacant stools, signaling the bartender without even looking his way. The thrum of the music was giving me a migraine, and I'd run out of patience long before I decided to make the dumbass move of walking in here.

I eventually looked up to find the guy on the other end of the bar. He was talking to a blonde two shots from busting out of her top. Clearly unfocused and delusional, I suppose the guy thought he had a chance. That would be the only way to find a beer gut and an unhealthy amount of plaid attractive. I waved again and he glanced my way, but he just as quickly returned to hitting on blondie. She continued to slur her words and sway on her heels, and bar boy was perfectly content to soak it up.

Fighting the urge to snap a neck, I made to get up when another girl approached the bar. Unlike the blonde, she was obviously sober…and a hell of a lot nicer to look at. She marched right up and quickly captured the bar tender's attention, flashing him a smile that I'm sure had gotten her her way more than once before. He blinked stupidly a few times before grinning, looking all chagrined before nodding and returning to work. He began serving a few other people and my personal savior swiveled her gaze towards mine. Damn. I'd never seen eyes that blue before.

And believe me when I say it was a miracle to even notice her eyes.

She had on skin tight jeans that hugged every curve, a fitted tank top that left a few inches of her tanned stomach exposed. Her golden brown hair hung loose around her shoulders, slightly damp with sweat. The ugly ass red boots her jeans were tucked into were all that brought me back to reality. Smart girl, it may have just saved her life. For now anyway.

"Don't take it personally, he prefers blondes." she remarked casually when she noticed my continued lack of a drink. She was still several stools away, but I could catch her scent from here. A mixture of honeysuckle and her own natural scent…different from the one I'd been thinking about before but somehow much more _appetizing_.

"Yeah?" I questioned, nodding to the bourbon when 'Hank' raised a fuzzy brow at me. Jesus. Find some damn tweezers. I leaned against the bar, studying her curves far longer than curtesy would allow, "How'd you swing it then?" Many things she was, but blonde wasn't one of them. Of course, looking at her it wasn't hard to tell that hair wasn't exactly a concern.

She grinned, turning to rest her elbows against the bar and watch the dancefloor, "I reminded him it's rude to make a lady wait," she turned her head slightly, meeting my gaze for a few moments before she grinned and shrugged, "doesn't hurt if you're missing a Y chromosome."

As if on cue what could only be called a super-sized tumbler of bourbon appeared next to me. Perhaps I underestimated Hank. I downed half the glass greedily, savoring the burn in my throat, said a few prayers it might chase away the memories stabbing at my all too sober mind. I doubted it would come to much. I knew before I took a sip it wasn't going to do a damn thing to salvage what little had remained of my soul.

But hey, even a dead man walking has to take one last shot before giving up, right?

When I finally came out of my bourbon infused reverie I noticed the girl was studying me. Not staring, not ogling the way most girls do…studying. Her eyes were narrowed, a pinch between her brows. Her posture had shifted slightly. It was subtle, but the relaxed set of her shoulders was gone. Yet the most puzzling thing (to me, anyway) was that Hank had slid her a drink too. A bottle of water.

I knew my confusion showed in my expression as I nodded towards her drink choice, "That's it?" How was anyone content with _water_ outside the Sahara?

"Not old enough." She was still studying me, though now she seemed to be making an effort to conceal it a little better. But it was hard not to notice that now she held her head a way that gave her the same view of the dance floor, but kept me in her line of sight. Geez, what did I do? Compared to some of my evenings, this one had been pretty harmless so far. That look was so reminiscent of Ric in judgey mode it was scary.

I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my drink. I didn't believe for a second that's why she'd gone legal. "Right. Don't tell me your good pal Hank wouldn't have hooked you up if you asked _real_ nicely?" The guy would probably give up plaid for a chance with her. And looking around the bar it was easy to tell she wouldn't be the only minor sporting a drink. Or ten.

While still clearly on guard, she smirked, raising her hands to clap for the end of a song I'd tuned out. As the dance floor cleared and filled up again, she shoved away from the bar, water in hand, and gave me a long, searching look before she shrugged again, "Guess we'll never know." With that, she turned on the heel of those ugly boots and made her way towards the dance floor.

Now it was my turn to study. What the hell was with this chick? She went from seductress to cop in two seconds flat without so much as a word of explanation. I guess she didn't really owe a stranger one, but that was a pretty quick turn around. I knew the effect I had on women, it was few and far between that they decided I wasn't worth it less than ten words in (unless their name is Bonnie Bennett, but witches don't count as girls). Maybe she was just opposed to drinking…but somehow I doubted that was the cause of the mood shift.

Namely because she was in a bar.

Narrowing my eyes and forcing myself to focus, I caught sight of her just as she reached what I assumed were her friends. Another girl and two guys. The girl was at least six inches taller than her with fiery red hair and looked like she could kick a grown man's ass without breaking a sweat. The guys were the Ken dolls of the south. Generically 'good' looking with tacky belt buckles, dusty boots, and plaid shirts. One blonde and one brunette, almost as if Mother Nature knew the world would need help telling them apart. At least they didn't have Hank's gut.

I didn't have any difficulty. Example;

Blonde = Sucks

Brunette = Dick

See? Easy.

Grinning at my own joke I watched as the four of them found a place in one of the lines. Everyone out there moved as if they'd been rehearsing for weeks. With a startling sense of revulsion and pity, I realized this must have been a regular form of entertainment.

"How y'all doin' tonight?"

I winced as the microphone screeched to life. The bands had changed. At least the new one didn't have banjos. The guy with the microphone (another plaid supporter) had a guitar slung across his chest, and he beamed like he'd just found out he was the next Johnny Cash as the crowd cheered in response. "Alright now, y'all take your places in line. Gentlemen, find yourself a cowgirl and let's dance!"

"Oh my God."

That one was me. Swear to…well, him. My jaw dropped. I couldn't help it. How was this real? I know I have enough redneck jokes to get through the apocalypse, but I was so sure stuff like this only happened in movies. I did a quick survey…no cameras. This was real. Wow.

The band started in another country song, the tempo considerably faster than the last group. The crowd on the dance floor started moving in unison, smiling and laughing and cheering. I couldn't decide if I should laugh or offer condolences.

But then I caught sight of _**her**_.

If line dancing had ever looked good on anyone, it was her. The way she moved her hips and threw her head back with laughter…the way that long, tangled hair flew around her…her ass in those jeans. I could have died a happy man.

Ha.

But it was a nice view. A decent distraction for the time being. But this night was only jut beginning. The bourbon wasn't enough. It had taken the edge off my thoughts, but it had only amplified my thirst. My need to tear into something and lose myself completely. And fortunately (for me) I'd found the perfect neck to help me do just that.

I continued to watch her as I drained my glass, growing irritated with her 'friend'. Dick. The guy found every excuse he could to touch her. To brush against her or put his hands on her hips. It was irrational and completely stupid, but I almost felt _jealous_. But only a few seconds of indulging that thought and I chalked it up to being territorial.

I hate sharing my food.

But I wasn't doing myself any favors by hanging around and watching. I could feel that red haze descending over me. If I didn't watch it, I'd snatch her off the dance floor and sink my teeth into that lovely neck while the whole damn bar watched.

I shoved a fifty dollar bill on the bar with my empty glass and quickly headed for the door. Maybe the fresh air would help me keep it together until she decided to leave.

* * *

 _ **L** uck_ was on my side. The parking lot was mostly unlit. The only light came from the glow of the neon signs plastered around the building and a single street lamp that only shone over about a third of the lot. I couldn't be certain, but I thought I caught her scent right outside the door and followed it to a red F150 near the back of the lot. It was faint, but I was willing to bet it was either hers or her ride. It hardly mattered to me. If Dick was the date, I'd deal with him first. Cheap never tastes all that good, anyway.

While I waited for my meal(s) to make their way outside, I ditched my jacket in my chair. It was balmy out and I'd hate to get blood on it. Cleaning leather was a pain in the ass, and the last thing I needed was another lecture from St. Stefan.

Stefan.

And just like that, what little progress I'd made in forgetting my night was gone. It all came rushing back. Katherine was back. The kiss I shared with 'Elena' turned out to be a mind game. Oh, and the other mind game? Katherine had never given a shit about me. Never. It was always Stefan. The girl I'd spent my entire immortal life obsessed with had watched my desperation from afar without a hint of interest. Then the girl I thought was different…the girl I needed to actually give a damn, just wanted Stefan.

It'll always be Stefan.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. My brother has always been the better man. The better brother. Could I really have blamed them (Elena, at least) for loving him over me? I'd known the truth when I kissed her tonight that she didn't feel the way I felt…but I held on to that one shred of hope that just maybe this time I would be enough.

Joke's on me.

And of course I couldn't stop there. I couldn't walk away and drown my sorrows. No, I had to prove something. I had to show her how badly she'd hurt me. Jeremy gave me the perfect in. I was hurt…I was _pissed_ , and there he was desperate for it. Everything inside me screamed to get out, to just swallow the fury and take it out on the first neighbor I ran into. But I didn't. I snapped his neck and left his lifeless body on her floor. She would hate me forever.

She _should_ hate me forever.

Problem was, she was my reason to be good. To try. To drink from blood bags. To treat humans with some modicum of respect. I wasn't selfless enough to do it on my own. I wasn't strong enough to do it without her. Without her…without either of them, I was a shell. A broken, empty shell with nowhere to go and nothing left to give.

And I was too goddamn tired of working for **nothing** to keep it up. I was every bit of the monster she accused me of being…so why fight it?

* * *

" _ **You**_ sure you wanna go down there, darlin'? You've never exactly had good things to say and we sure as hell haven't seen him around here."

Ah, the commentary of Dick. They'd only been in the parking lot for forty five seconds and I was ready to tear his throat out just to spare us all. He'd evidently been trying to convince my little midnight snack that she shouldn't take some trip to visit her dad because the guy was an absentee father.

And he couldn't screw her from a few hundred miles away. Not that he included that, but it was pretty clear his reasons for wanting her to reconsider were selfish. The other two had already bid them goodnight and driven off in the tall girl's beaten up Honda. A few hugs and well wishes and that was that. Why couldn't Dick follow their lead?

Not that he had anything to worry about. I seriously doubted she'd be making it to Daddy's house.

But for what it was worth, she seemed nearly as irritated as I was. She kept up the smile, but I could hear the impatience in her response, "I appreciate the concern Derek, but I'll be fine. It's been months since we've had an actual conversation…years since I've seen him. I know he hasn't been the greatest father in a while, but I haven't exactly been daughter of the year, either. He's my dad…I have to try."

Dick didn't look convinced. But, he did at least shove away from her truck. His bottom lip turned out a bit. Pouting. Real attractive on a grown man. He finally seemed to suck it up and nodded, his expression still sullen, "If you're sure. But…we'll be here if it doesn't work out."

Somehow I was pretty sure he meant _he_ would be there, but wisely chose to chicken out. Whatever he was feeling, the girl (according to her friends her name was Arielle) clearly didn't return the sentiment.

Tough break, Dick.

Sighing, he pulled her in for a hug before she had the chance to respond. In typical, southern gentleman fashion, he kissed the top of her head before he took a respectful step back. "Take care, Arielle."

"You too, Derek." There was a fondness in her expression, but I was strangely elated to know she felt nothing for him. Not that it mattered, her romantic interludes would hardly interfere with my plans, but there was something deeply satisfying about knowing she wasn't buying the act.

Pity she wasn't going to live to see the sunrise.

Once Dick was safely in his car and out of sight, I started towards her. My footsteps were silent as I closed the gap between us, I could feel my fangs extending, eager for her blood. She looked even more delicious now than she had inside.

She had just opened the driver's door when I stopped a mere few feet from her, "You know if you'd taken that drink from Hank, _Derek_ might have looked a little better."

She jumped ever so slightly…but there was something about the rigidness in her posture that told me my appearance wasn't a total surprise. She turned around, leaning against the driver's seat like she'd expected me to come by for a chat. "I think you had enough for both of us. How'd he look to you?"

Mmm, I loved a good smart mouth. I smirked, taking her in once more. It would be a shame to waste…but my resolve to behave was long gone. I knew I wouldn't stop.

"Desperate. Boring. Maybe a bit smelly? Axe is such a poor choice. But seeing as how you couldn't get away fast enough, I'm sure I'm not telling you anything new," I was tired of the games. Banter was only good for so long. And this girl…beautiful as she was, there was something deliberate in her words, in her posture. It piqued my curiosity in some ways, but in others it was miserably annoying. I didn't want to think about her. About them. About Jeremy. About anything. I just needed to _do._ Meeting her gaze again, I decided it was best to take the easy way out and just compel her.

"Stop talking. You're not going to scream, or try to run. You're just going to be a good girl and stand right _there_." I almost breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes glazed over. She nodded wordlessly, staring blankly at me as I moved closer. I glanced around, ensuring we were alone. I settled my hands on her hips, drawing her closer to me. I could see the vein in her neck, practically taste the sweetness of her blood. I let my fangs show as I bent to sink my teeth in, eyes already closed in anticipation.

What I got was not sweet. Not by a long shot.

Before my teeth touched her skin, I heard a quiet _whoosh_ before I felt an intense pain in my abdomen. I looked down in disbelief to find two slim stakes protruding from my stomach…and a mini crossbow that would have made Ric jealous in her hands. She stared blankly back at me…but this time it wasn't the docile look of the compelled.

She just didn't give a shit that she'd stabbed someone.

"Under any other circumstances, this would be a major turn out." I choked out angrily, trying to ignore the pain long enough to grab hold of her. But before I could, another stake launched into my side, sending me to my knees in agony. I suppressed a groan of pain as I began trying to pull the stakes out. Who the hell was this chick?

Slowly, deliberately, she bent down and met my gaze (rubbing it in that my compulsion hadn't worked, no doubt) "You know," she murmured, glancing at my wounds impassively before turning an angry glare to me, "you could at least buy a girl a drink before you try to turn her into a juice box."

Another flare of pain. She launched one last stake, this one nearly piercing my lungs. I wheezed at the blow, toppling to the ground as I attempted to pry the stakes out. The damn things burned too. As if they'd been soaked in…vervain? Fury consumed me and I snarled as I began to pry the second one out. Her truck roared to life as I growled out, "I'm going to rip your throat out little girl."

The sound of her window rolling down caught my attention. I was half way through removing stake number two. She gave me that same cheeky little smirk she had inside and I felt a new wave of fury, "Gonna have to get those out first, slick." She gave me a mocking salute before throwing the truck in reverse. I'd only _barely_ rolled out of the way when she sped past me. I'd almost become a goddamn speed bump. She stopped for just a moment as she shifted into drive, sparing me only one more glance before she called out, "Next time, steal a blood bag."

Tires squealing she peeled out of the parking lot like she was auditioning for the next Vin Diesel disaster. I watched her go with a mixture of pure hatred and begrudging admiration.

There was definitely something about that girl that was different.

Maybe I'd find out what when I ripped her insides out.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _Ah Damon, such a romantic ;)_

 _Hi all….so this has been a long time coming. I wrote several chapters of this story a few years back and ended up kind of losing muse for it. Happens to the best of us, right? Well, my original plan had been to take a break and come back fresh and ready to write again. Obviously, that didn't exactly happen. I ended up unexpectedly losing my hard drive, and consequently all the chapters I'd written, drafts, ideas, summaries, outlines/plot boards. The whole enchilada. I was heartbroken over it, but in the end I decided to take it as a sign that back then just wasn't the right time to tell or finish this story._

 _Fast forward a few years and here I am. Still completely unsure of how this story will be received (those Damon/OC stories aren't exactly always well loved), or if there's anyone out there who was on this journey with me the first time, but now feels right. I hope you guys enjoyed this, and I really hope you want to read more. If you read the original, I'm sure you've noticed there are already some differences. This is a complete re-write. In some ways I'll be following the same storyline, but there are plenty of things I decided to change…and admittedly a good deal of things I don't remember! :)_

 _Alright, I promise to stop ranting now! I hope you enjoyed – leave me a comment and let me know? Do you want to see more? What do you think Damon will do when he sees Arielle again? And how does she fit into the madness of the doppelgangers?_

 _Find out next time…._

 _ **XOXO,**_  
 _ **Cilla**_


	2. Chapter 2: Family Reunion

_Set post 2X01._

 _Summary: Post 2X01. The guardians are the untold piece of the Petrova doppelganger history – and Alaric Saltzman's estranged daughter is about to find out just how big of a role they play. Who says history isn't everyone's favorite subject? Somewhat AU. Damon X OC. Stelena. Other pairings to come._ _ **Rating subject to change in later chapters!**_

 **It All Started With Those Damn Red Boots**

 **Chapter Two: Family Reunion (Arielle's POV)**

" _ **I**_ t's like the easiest drive in the world, Macie. I think I'll be –" I stopped short, a mixture of shock and irritation temporarily distracting me from reassuring one of my oldest friends I wasn't walking into the middle of a Voorhees movie. I'd glanced down at my GPS – praying the turn for Mystic Falls, Virginia was somewhere in the immediate future – but instead of finding the sweet relief of a turn ahead, I found a stain. A big, rust colored disaster blooming across the bottom of my top. I cursed loudly, contemplating the possibility of going back to run his ass over. This is what I get for sparing a vampire. "That son of a bitch got blood on my favorite shirt!"

Okay, so I stabbed him with a stake….3 times…but it was self defense! That piece of shit had been dreaming about turning my throat into a big mac for hours. He'd actually hung around in the parking lot for over two hours. Just for me. I guess I could have felt flattered, it wasn't every day a man gave a girl that kind of attention.

It would have been _super_ romantic if he hadn't been trying to murder me.

"WHAT?!" I winced, holding the phone away from my ear. Oops. So much for reassuring Macie. I could hear her accelerated breathing through the speaker. I could almost picture her comical look of both terror and disapproval. "What do you mean **blood**? Who? What _happened_?"

Now might be a good time to mention that while I'm no stranger to the supernatural world, everyone else in my life – with the exception of one person – was. If my friends knew I kept an array of wooden stakes, vervain grenades, and a 9 mm loaded with wood bullets under the seat of my truck, they'd think I was a closet serial killer. Keeping the secret was hard. Having almost no one in my life I could really talk to about it…not being able to explain that all those 'unsolvable murders' weren't often quite as much of a mystery as everyone thought. But it had to be that way. The closer people come to the supernatural, the more it consumes them. And once you're in, there's no going back.

Trust me, I've tried.

Thinking fast, I did my best to sound nonchalant – and not turn around to go turn Mr. Blue Eyes into a pavement pancake – "Chill. I was at the Hat Rack earlier and this guy was trashed and I was trying to help him get a cab but he was stumbling all over the place. Long story short, he cut his arm and I guess he bled all over me while I was trying to help him."

Not my best, but it seemed to work. The frantic footsteps and near-panting breathing stopped. I heard her keys hit the porcelain bowl by the front door of what had been _our_ apartment. Bless her, the girl was going to come straighten me out. "Serves you right for setting foot in that place. It's a magnet for trouble…come to think of it, I guess that's why you were there."

Ouch. I laughed, breathing my own sigh of relief that she'd decided to let it go so easily. I didn't want her anywhere near the crime scene in case that blood sucking asshat was still peeling his pride off the cement. And she couldn't come here…if I saw her I'd abandon this dumbass idea in a heartbeat. Much as I wanted to, I needed to do this. No matter how much I was dreading it. "We can't all be saints."

"I guess not," she teased, though a troubled sigh quickly followed. Like Derek, she didn't understand my sudden need to do this when I'd spent the last few years stubbornly refusing to do more than pick up the phone once a month or send a Christmas card. The occasional visit was tolerated, but they'd been short lived and tense. This was the first big step either of us had taken since I'd been in high school. "Arielle…I know you're dead set on this and I'm not going to try and talk you out of it again. But just remember, if it's not working, just come home. I'm staying in the apartment, I'm not getting another roommate – don't argue. I just want you to know you've got somewhere to come back to."

It would have been so easy to just turn around. I'd made a life for myself away from him, and away from our fucked up past. I had a job and an apartment and friends and a life. I was happy. And while I wasn't exactly giving all of it up (more like **half** ), I knew this could be opening the door to an even bigger change. The thought was both alarming and warming all at once.

I couldn't help but sigh. Why did this have to be so damn hard? "I love you for saying that, and I could very well end up on the doorstep at 2:00 a.m. But I have to do this. I've got to try. He's my dad…and he's the only family I have left. If I don't give working things out a shot I know I'll regret it." _And I'm worried about him._ But I couldn't tell her that. Lies of omission and the supernatural might as well have been orange juice and vodka.

The 'this' in this situation was moving in with my dad. He lived in a tiny little town in Virginia where he taught high school history (bless him). Sounds harmless, right? Wrong. For whatever reason that little town was like a vampire vacation destination. Ever since he'd gotten there he'd been running into one right after the next. Every time we spoke (more often in the last few months than we had in the previous two years as a result) he'd had yet another incident. He kept getting sucked in. Granted some of it was his own damn fault (we'll talk about that later), but even as angry I was with him I knew he was just trying to be a good person. He saw innocent people who needed help. I would have been more disappointed with him if he'd just walked away.

And yet…it all went right back to the supernatural debacle. It takes over. It infiltrates every aspect of your life and before you know it you're detached from the human world. You start seeing the horror and the pain and the danger as normal. Unavoidable. But it had to…to some extent anyway. Shit past or not, I wasn't going to let my dad end up collateral damage because of some hormonal teenagers and his new fanged friends.

I suppose it would have been easier if I could tell Macie all that, but what I was able to tell her seemed to be enough. That was one of her many admirable traits – she always knew when too back off.

"I know. And I know you guys will work it out. But just so you know, I might have snuck your key into the side pocket of your purse. Doesn't matter what time, the door's always open for you."

"Thanks, Mace."

* * *

 _I just got home. Brought home food from the Grill. Text me when you get here? I'll help you bring your stuff upstairs. No elevator!_

 _I got your room ready. You still like green right?_

 _It's okay if you don't, we can get you new stuff tomorrow. It's dark, you won't even notice._

 _I should have asked you what you wanted for dinner. The Grill is good. But I can go back out. Chinese? Mexican? There are a few good places in town._

 _I'm outside. It's just the one building. Impossible to miss. Drive safe._

 _Call me if you get lost._

 _ **DAD.**_

 _ **Chill. Green and burgers sound great. GPS is working fine. Be there soon.**_

 _Stop texting at the wheel, young lady._

 _ **I'm at a gas station, smart ass.**_

 _Don't sass your father. I still have your baby pictures. Remember the Play-Dough Butt Incident? I do. And so does my flash drive._

 _ **OMG**_

 _ **DELETE THEM NOW!**_

 _No_

 _ **When you get old, I'm putting you in a home. I'll drop you off with a super-sized pack of depends with a sassy nurse who takes your red Jell-O for herself and eats it in front of you every night.**_

 _That's low. You know red's my favorite._

 _ **What a pity. Everyone knows green is disgusting.**_

 _Good thing that's the color I painted your walls._

 _ **WHAT?!**_

 _Just kidding. It's hot pink with orange polka dots and clown wallpaper. See you soon._

* * *

 _ **I**_ could do this.

Right?

He was my dad, not Satan. All I had to do was get out of the damn truck. Pull handle, step out, done. Simple. Yet I couldn't quite will myself to move. Crazy as it was…I was nervous. A few good natured texts didn't take away from the fact that we hadn't been close in years. I hadn't lived under his roof since I was seventeen. And moving back in as a twenty year old didn't exactly seem normal. But he'd offered when I told him I wanted us to work things out, and I knew it was the best way to keep an eye on him.

It had been easier to convince myself it was a smart move when I'd been four hundred miles away.

I sucked in a deep breath as I braced my hands against the steering wheel. I could do this. I had to do this. If for no other reason than my idiot father was probably going to get himself killed if I didn't intervene.

What kind of daughter would I be if I didn't ensure he lived long enough to go into the nursing home?

About the time I pulled open the door my dad rounded the side of the apartment complex. It took me only a moment to realize he'd been looking out for me on the main road. We must have missed one another by seconds. The thought pulled at my heartstrings. I'd forgotten what it was like to come home and find my dad waiting up for me.

You know, on those occasions when I wasn't in deep shit for breaking curfew. Again.

As he started towards me, I couldn't help but notice he looked older. Not so much physically, it was in his eyes. A weariness that hadn't been there before. Like he'd seen too much. As much as I wanted to resent it (he'd played a big enough role in landing himself right in the middle of this vampire soap opera), seeing him now I realized it was unfair to judge when I still didn't know half the story. The day was coming soon when I would have to choose between holding on to my hurt or embracing forgiveness.

Was years-old pain really more valuable to me than a fresh start?

"About time, you must have been driving ten miles an hour!" He jogged the rest of the distance between us. I could still see the nervousness behind his smile, but his happiness at my arrival seemed to have won out. Once I shut the door he wrapped his arms around me. I was enveloped by the familiar scent of his cologne, a hint of the linen scented detergent he used.

It smelled like **home**.

"Hey Daddy," I murmured into his chest, sinking into the hug for several seconds before stepping back.

Big mistake.

"Why do you have blood on your shirt?"

Shit. Forgot to change. Well, so much for a smooth landing. I offered him a bland smile and walked around to the bed to grab my stuff. It was just two bags, it would only take one trip. I hauled the first one out and passed it over to him, buying myself a few more seconds. "The crowd at the Hat Rack isn't what it used to be?" It came out like a question. Despite my earlier pride in taking down a vampire, I suddenly felt a wave of sheepishness. He might have been the one to train me how to fight vampires, but that didn't mean he approved of the idea of me tangling with them.

"The Hat Rack?" he repeated as he started towards the complex, suspicion sharp in his tone. I could feel him watching me but I refused to meet his eyes. Take a lesson ladies, no matter how old you get, you'll never not care about a disapproving dad look. "That dive on the outskirts of town? What were you doing in a bar?"

"Not drinking," I assured quickly. Dad pulled open the door and led the way across the modestly decorated lobby to the stairs. Like he said, no elevator. Under ordinary circumstances I wouldn't have cared, but presently I didn't appreciate the extra interrogation time. I could still feel his eyes on me as we made our way up. Sighing, I decided it was better to just get it over with. "There was a vampire there. He was too interested inside, I figured he'd follow. I had a friend with me until I got to the truck, waited for him to get out of sight, and once Not Edward Cullen made his move I hit him with a few stakes. I probably should have killed him but I couldn't have gotten rid of the body by myself and…" I stopped short, realizing I hadn't analyzed my actions completely until now.

It wasn't like I couldn't have. I was sober as a judge with the upper hand to boot. All I had to do was shoot that last stake into his heart instead of his throat. But I didn't. I didn't even consider it, really. I'd known I was prepared to fight to the death, but once he was down, I knew it wouldn't come to that. And more than that…despite the fact that he was trying to eat me, the guy clearly wasn't some blood crazed maniac. He had control. My guess was that he was decently old.

I also guessed something pretty fucked up put that dead look in his eyes. I just…couldn't quite bring myself to kill him. Someone else had already hurt him pretty bad. I guess I just figured a good ass kicking was enough.

That, and it really _would_ have been a bitch to get rid of the corpse.

"I don't think it'll be a problem. Pretty sure he was just a prick having a really bad night. 'Course if I knew he'd ruin my shirt I probably wouldn't have been so nice."

We reached the fourth floor and I finally took a quick peek. He was still looking at me, but his expression had shifted. It was a look confusingly made up of both fear and pride. After what seemed like a lifetime, he reached out and squeezed my shoulder with his free hand, a sad smile playing on his lips, "You've got a good heart, kid. Always have." Then he sighed, readjusting my bag on his shoulder. For a moment it looked like he was going to let it go, but at the last second he seemed to decide it was worth it.

"Next time someone tries to eat you, do your old man a favor and kill the son of a bitch."

* * *

 _ **H**_ is apartment was exactly what I would expect from him. Minimalist furniture, sparse personal items, and a boatload of dust coated books and artifacts. Once a history buff…

Our house growing up looked a lot like this. I loved it. It was like living in a museum. There was always something new to explore. I would sit with him for hours going through both historical and fictional texts, comparing facts and legends. It always made me feel special. Grown up. Like my father trusted me with the secrets of the past. It was a tradition we'd kept up all the way up until the night he told me he was marrying Isabel. That was the last time we'd had an effortless conversation.

Seeing all of it now…it made me ache for what could have been.

Shoving that thought away, I turned around to find my dad cautiously studying me again. The nerves were back and he looked like he half expected me to lay into him. But I couldn't get into it tonight. I was exhausted, coated in blood, and too happy to have had a few nice moments to ruin it.

"Nice place," I commented lightly, giving him a pointed look. Not tonight. We both knew some hard conversations were coming, but we needed to ease into it. Tonight had been a good start…and we had to start somewhere. "You ready to show that hot pink room?"

A laugh, tinged with relief, met my lame attempt at humor. Dad nodded his head towards the narrow hallway. He pointed out the half bath, his room, and at the very end of the hallway was my room. Despite his claims, it wasn't pink. Or green, for that matter. The walls were the same faded white as the rest of the apartment. The dresser, nightstand, and sleigh bed frame were a dark wood and looked brand new, as did the plush green patterned comforter and pillows adorning the bed. A few canvas paintings hung on the wall; two florals and an abstract ballerina. A framed picture of us – my tenth birthday, he'd taken me to DC for the week and we explored every landmark, monument, and museum we could – sat on the nightstand next to a white and silver pattered lamp.

It was perfect. And it was way too much. I felt my jaw drop slightly. "Dad this is…it's great, it's just you shouldn't have gone through so much trou-"

"It wasn't. I'm glad you're here. I want…" he seemed to struggle for words for a moment, maybe the nerves getting the better of him again. We were still finding our footing with one another and he seemed petrified of saying the wrong thing. "I want you to be happy here. Life without you sucks, Arielle. I know we have a lot to talk about…and I have a lot to make up for. I just need you to know that I love you, and I'm here for the long haul. No matter what."

He placed my bag on the bed, pausing there for a second to let the words sink in. Before I could find a response, he turned and leaned down to kiss my forehead, a bedtime tradition for as long as I could remember. He smiled gently, holding my gaze for a few long moments before walking out the door, closing it softly behind him.

"I love you, too."

* * *

 _ **D**_ espite being absolutely exhausted, I was up hours after saying goodnight to my dad. A long, hot shower was desperately needed. But even after stepping out of the warm spray and throwing on my pajamas – tank top and shorts, the humidity outside seemed to be creeping in – I couldn't sleep. So instead I unpacked, read, unpacked some more, and finally settled for lying awake and obsessing over what I was going to do about my dad.

Last night had gone surprisingly well. Far better than I could have imagined. We were a long way from healed…there were so many issues we hadn't touched in years. And while many things had changed, I had to wonder if things between us had changed as a consequence, not because they needed to for us to rebuild. Did that matter? If it did, how much? If it didn't…why?

As you can imagine, there's no getting off that runaway train once you get on. I tossed and tuned until early in the morning before finally falling into an unrestful sleep. By the time I managed to pry my eyelids apart, the sun was fully up. I groaned as I stretched out my stiff muscles. Next time, I was hunting down the bourbon. As if to rub it in, a bird began singing loudly outside my window. The shrillness made me cringe. Eyes still half closed, I launched one of my pillows at the glass, grinning when it rebounded off the curtains and the singing abruptly stopped, "Beat it you little bastard."

"Don't take it out on the bird. Most normal people roll out of bed before 3 in the afternoon."

I bolted upright, eyes wide. Dad wouldn't be home, and that sure as hell wasn't his voice. I _knew_ that voice. I'd only heard it a handful of time, but less than 24 hours had passed…and what can I say? A girl doesn't forget her would be murderer so easily.

I turned to find him leaning against my dresser, the same smirk from last night turning lips up. Despite his casual stance, I could feel the anger coming off him in waves. I'd made a fool of him and I seriously he doubted he went to all the trouble of tracking me down to shoot the breeze. How the hell did he get in here? And if he'd come to finish what he started, why draw it out?

Stupid question. I knew from experience he could be patient.

Slowly, I sat up and pushed the covers back, trying to act unphased by his presence. He wasn't the only who could play the bullshit game. I shrugged, giving him a smirk of my own. I needed to buy some time. My options were limited. The defenses I had would take some maneuvering to get to…and while I knew my dad had to have an arsenal around here, I hadn't thought to find it yet. "Yeah? What else do they do, since you're **clearly** such an expert?"

A grin. Not good, but he seemed to be playing along. He took a step closer to my bed, shamelessly eyeing my bare legs, "Well," his tone was too casual. Definitely pissed. Probably planning something worse than a quick neck twist. "For one thing, they don't stab total strangers with chopsticks," he held up a finger, counting my 'abnormal' sins as he took another step closer. He stopped at the edge of the bed, hesitating only a moment before sitting down. Our knees were touching. He moved his hand to my thigh (we're old friends now, huh?). Finger number two popped up, "Two, they don't leave injured men in parking lots after nearly running them down."

Chills ran up my spine. I eyed his hand, toying with the idea of breaking a few fingers. It would probably get me killed, but the rebellious side of me just wanted to see the look on his face. It almost seemed worth it. But I didn't plan on going out like this.

Just as nonchalantly, I raised my hand to trace fingers along his cheek…even I had to admit, he was gorgeous. Under better circumstances, I wouldn't have complained about his attention. I let my hand rest at the nape of his neck, letting my nails lightly trace across his skin. He tried to hide it, but I felt him shiver beneath my touch.

God this was fucked up.

"Don't tease a girl. Finish what you started." Yeah, I'm well aware I was pretty much telling him to kill me. But I was tired of the game. Do or die wasn't meant to be done in slow motion. I had a plan, pretty sure he did too. Now it was time to see who had the better one.

He laughed. A genuine one that made him seem so much more human than monster for just a moment. "It really is a shame I'm going to kill you. I think I might have liked you had you not kabobed me." The hand on my leg tensed. It was barely noticeable, but he was getting just as impatient as I was.

Luckily for me, he'd shown me something last night. He could be patient, much more patient than I'm sure he was given credit for. But when that patience snapped, he was all impulse. No control. As soon as he snapped, he stopped paying attention. It saved my life last night…hopefully it would save it again.

"That is a shame," I murmured in agreement, feigning disappointment. I glanced down, buying a few more seconds to iron out the little details before looking back up at him through my lashes. I scooted just a bit closer, moving my right leg into a better position, "I might have screwed your brains out if you hadn't gotten your ass kicked by a girl."

Predictably, the humor drained from his expression. Short fuse, plus wounded pride? Perfect recipe. I had only seconds. Dark veins began to blossom underneath his eyes. His lips pulled back in a vicious snarl, fangs poised and ready to rip into my flesh. He lunged, but I caught his hair with the hand on his neck, jerking back with all the strength I could muster. I was hardly a match for him, but the surprise knocked him off balance. Taking advantage, I threw my leg up, landing a semi-awkward blow to his chin. It was enough to knock him off me, if only for a moment.

I dove off the bed, hitting the ground with a loud _thud._ I just needed to get to my bag under the bed. My 9 mm was stored in one of the side pockets. I desperately groped around for the bag, but just as my fingers closed around the strap, I felt a searing pain on my scalp. He'd grabbed a fist full of my hair and proceeded to pull me up. I hissed in pain, feeling the first spark of real panic when I lost my grip on the bag. His arms wrapped around me like a vice, half-cutting off my air supply. He was breathing hard, his eyes blood red and furious.

He made to bite me again, but at the last second I reared my head back and smacked into his. Black stars danced across my vision. It probably hurt me a lot more than him, but it was enough. I shoved out of his grip, mercifully staying free long enough to snatch the lamp off the bedside table. I had a strong grip, my fingers twined through the intricate metal frame, but as I raised it to strike him, he caught my arm, pulling me to him and pulling my arm behind my back. His grip was like steel and I couldn't help the groan of pain that escaped my lips. With his free hand, he captured my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look up and meet his gaze. A smear of blood remained by his lip and left nostril.

Good.

I knew he wouldn't be stupid enough to try and compel me again…he just wanted the last word.

A twisted grin made its way across his lips as he lowered his head, our lips mere inches apart, "You didn't disappoint, beautiful. But play time's over. Gotta get out of here before Ric comes home to find his late night booty call dead."

Booty call?

 _ **EW.**_

I didn't have time to puzzle over his words. This was my last chance. With my free hand, I reached up, going straight for those pretty blue eyes. Such a waste, but it was him or me. I don't know how much damage I did before he smacked my hand away, but my fingers were coated in blood. I jerked away from him, clocking him straight across the temple with the lamp before bolting from the room. I heard his body hit the ground, but it wouldn't keep him down long. And I couldn't outrun him.

Desperate, I tore down the hallway and darted into the kitchen, jerking a jagged chef's knife from the knife block on the counter. It wouldn't be as good as a stake, but I'd make it work long enough to get a hold of one.

As soon as I had a grip on the knife, he slammed into me from behind, knocking us both to the ground. I held my hand out to avoid falling on the blade. He flipped me over so fast the world spun. I was on my back, him hovering me, looking absolutely murderous. His skin was stained crimson and he still seemed to be having some trouble seeing. Nonetheless, he reared back and dove towards me just as I raised the knife.

I felt the sharp pain in my neck the same time I felt the knife dig into his stomach. He groaned against my neck, willing himself to finish the job, but I imagined the vervain in my blood wasn't going to help. I struggled to get free of him as I felt his hands wrapping around my throat, "Just die already!" he hissed irritably, cutting off my air supply with one hand and trying to pin down the hand that had the knife with the other.

"Go fuck yourself, asshole." I choked back, using what little strength I had left to kick at him. I tried to aim another shot with the knife, but he'd caught my wrist. I couldn't catch my breath and black spots began to drift across my peripheral. If I was going to die, I'd at least go out my way.

His grip on my neck tightened, a wicked sneer twisting his lips into an ugly line, "Such a dirty mouth, I would've loved to have seen it wrapped around my-"

"What the fuck are you doing to my daughter!?"

* * *

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 _Uh oh….somebody's in trouble ;)_

 _There you have it, chapter 2! Thank you guys so much for your support on the first chapter, it really does mean the world to me! Make a girl's day and keep it coming? Let me know what you thought, I'm always thrilled to have feedback!_

 _What will Ric do to Damon? How will Damon and Arielle react to each other's identities? And what happened in Ric and Arielle's past that makes it so impossible to start over?_

 _Find out next time…_

 _ **XOXO,  
Cilla**_


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